


It Had to be You

by raewastaken (IWriteLove)



Category: BioShock, RWBY
Genre: 1950s, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Drug Use, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Multi, Period-Typical Sexism, Pre-New Years Eve, Prostitution, Racism, ill add tags as i go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 01:31:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4040518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IWriteLove/pseuds/raewastaken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite what Andrew Ryan thought, the real parasites were crawling around in Rapture, rooted deep in its grimy underbelly, worming their ways to the glimmering, golden surface. They were alive and well, and anyone who spent more than a moment in the city could tell you; Rapture was not what it seemed under all the gold and glitz.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> um.... oops? im sorry. but also not sorry. if you've ever played bioshock, you can kind of assume where this fic is going by the end and for that, im so sorry. cheers nonetheless. (also that summary is shit im sorry)

**_November 1958; Rapture_**  
  
 ** _Mermaid Lounge, Siren Alley_**  
  
Siren Alley was a place you'd never find one of those posh socialites for very long. Sure, people from the nicer parts of Rapture came down quite often, to scratch those embarrassed itches they didn't need to be embarrassed by, but they were in and out in half an hour on average anyway, whether it was from the company of a girl in the Pink Pearl Hotel, or the gambling in the backrooms of the Mermaid Lounge. Couldn't have the press catching the owner of a high end jewelry shop down in the Pink Pearl with a wedding band on his pudgy ring finger and his pants around his ankles with a red-light district "whore" as his company. Best guess was their wives just weren't doing it for them, and in Rapture, what a man wants, a man gets, marriage vows be damned in the process. It was sickening, not only for these slick men slipping in and out of the place like they were the Devil dropping into Church before it starts to burn, but that these girls even had to live their lives like this; Rapture was a city of opportunity, where you could reimagine yourself, where some big wigged government couldn't tell you what to do. Yet all those promises and dreams seemed to fall through the gaps between these girls' fingers, forcing them to do what they had to just to pay overpriced rent on some sleezy, shitty apartment that they barely lived in anyway. As far as these girls were concerned, the "parasite" Andrew Ryan was so scared of wasn't on the surface, resting with the Americans and Russians; it was very alive and well in the unfaithful, Olympus Heights business men.  
  
Yang Xiao Long hated Siren Alley.  
  
Tonight was a quiet night, a godsend, as far as she was concerned; some nights all she saw were drunkards wanting a free screw, but she usually spent the better part of a night throwing out ADAM withdrawn addicts that just want to knock around some poor gal like she was the reason they couldn't afford another bottle of the glowing red shit. But tonight, it was slow, few people popping into the Mermaid Lounge for a drink and some company, even less leaving to the Pink Pearl across the way with a dolled up pretty face on their arm. She was glad, even if it meant her paycheck would suffer a little, given the bruise still healing on her ribs from a barely dodged punch from some stubborn asshole reeking of Scotch a few nights back. Days off weren't something she could afford right now, but a small break was more than welcomed. She crossed her toned arms over her chest, eying a few figures skulking around a smuggler's crate down the walk, narrowing her eyes a little, before glancing over as a girl returned alone, brown hair a mess and make up smudged. There was a dark mark forming on her cheek, and Yang frowned, watching her as she walked up. "Customer get a bit too physical?" she asked, letting the girl move over to her on her own, carefully taking her cheek and looking over the bruise. "Shit... That'll look like hell tomorrow."  
  
The girl sighed, nodding solemnly. "Said his wife used to love getting hit like this," she said, and Yang could hear the Australian accent in her voice. "Told him that was all well and good, but I wasn't his wife, and I wasn't going to get hit by some drunk. But he ended up hitting me anyway, saw stars for a while."  
  
Yang frowned and shook her head, letting go of the girl's cheek, pulling out a few bills from her pocket and handing them to her. "Go order an ice cold beer from Junior. Tell him I sent you and he'll charge you half and give you a bottle. Then find a quiet corner of the bar and hold the bottle against your cheek. Take the rest of the night off."  
  
She smiled, taking the bills and standing on her toes a bit in her heels to kiss Yang's cheek, leaving a small lipstick smudge on her skin. "Thank you," she said softly, before heading into the bar that was playing Bessie Smith a bit too loud. Junior had an odd taste in music. She sighed, leaning back against the wall, watching the streets. Sometimes, she could only wonder what it was like to live up in the nicer side of Rapture, to sleep in fine silk sheets in the apartments in Olympus Heights, to shop around Market Street. Yang didn't go up there often; too many tight lipped, upturned nosed rich people who thought they were better than you just because they didn't have to come near the dirtier underbelly of their precious city. She couldn't handle having someone look down at her like that, when she was working her ass off to afford to stay out of Pauper's Drop, and they went to bed at night barely working an hour a day, if even that. Apollo Square might not have been the best place, not by a long shot, but her bed was comfortable, she had food in the fridge, and that was more than some people had down here.  
  
Yang was going over the possibility of conning Junior out of extra alcohol he didn't need before she called a night, when a large figure approaching caught her attention. Her back straighten a bit and she stood up a bit straighter, before the lighting caught the figure's face and she relaxed, smiling a bit at the man walking toward her. She motioned toward the bar. "She's in there, big guy. Had a rough customer. Should be in a corner nursing a shiner on her cheek."  
  
He nodded, sighing softly. "Is she okay?" he asked quietly, looking visibly bothered.   
  
"Yeah, she's okay. She was a bit shaken, was all," she said, smiling softly. "I'm sure she just wants to go home by now, Yatsu."  
  
Yatsuhashi, the bulking figure currently in front of Yang, nodding and sighing. "Yeah, yeah, okay," he said quietly. "Can I go in to get her?"  
  
Yang moved out of the doorway to let him, smiling gently as she did and he moved into the longue. She turned to watch him enter, heading to a small corner in the back of the bar and go to the brunette nursing her cheek with a cold bottle of beer. Yang sighed, turning back to the rest of Siren Alley and running a hand through her long, blonde hair. She wished she didn't have to see things like this day in and day out, but she did, and she was more or less stuck with it, as far as she was concerned. The two emerged after a while, the bruise a lot more faint than before on the brunette's cheek, her arm around Yatsu's and a small, grateful smile on her face. She looked over at Yang as they left, stopping again to hug her. "Thank you, Yang," she said softly, kissing her cheek. "You get home safely, okay?"  
  
"I always do," she assured the brunette. "You go get home safely, too, Velvet."  
  
Velvet Scarlatina smiled, nodding, before turning and taking Yatsuhashi's arm again, heading out with him. Yang watched them until they turned and disappeared behind the buildings, sighing softly. She always kind of wished she had someone to walk home with like that, but never really acted upon it; it's not like there were many people who would be up to dating someone who lived in Artemis Suites and worked in Siren Alley. Posh socialites gave her bad looks, and everyone who knew her name down here were dead scared of her. _'Probably for the better,'_ she thought idly, humming and glancing over at the men still hanging around the crate down the way, wondering if they were going to start trouble, before she felt the tap of hand on her shoulder.  
  
She turned to face the large figure of a man wearing what he'd consider his best suit and tie, although the jacket was missing. Junior was her employer, owner and operator of the Mermaid Lounge, and despite the lowly status he had managed to sign off for himself, and the types of people he saw come and go from his bar every night, Yang considered him an honorable man, at least by her standards. He was more than accommodating to the girls Yang ushered in with bruises and angry red slap marks and scratches, always keeping a small first aid kid behind the counter and extra bottles of beer to nurse away the ache, and she had never seen him lay a hand on any of the girls; only the rough drunks that strolled in looking for a free screw or free alcohol. He was a good man, and Yang was more than pleased to be the bouncer for him. "Go home, Yang," he said to her, motioning back to the bar. "It's getting late, there won't be many more faces coming through. You can head back home now."  
  
Yang smiled and sighed. Usually she'd argue with him, always in need of extra money, but tonight she could feel the ache in her ribs and the heaviness in her eyelids, so she just nodded silently. "Yeah, I'll head home," she said to him, patting his shoulder. "Thanks, Junior. I'll see you tomorrow night."  
  
"Night," he said, heading back in to help some poor asshole that was falling out of his chair drunk, and Yang turned to head to the metro, hoping she could catch a ride soon and get home quickly. She wanted nothing more than to get home and wash off the dirt and grime of Siren Alley, to collapse into bed and sleep for the whole day. Some nights she wandered home drunk, but those were the worst nights, where she saw too many bruises and scratches on the girls, too many tears and limping sets of legs. A deep set fear of having to watch her sister do work like this for a living was always floating in the back of her mind, even during the times when she brought home extra money and they lived comfortably for a few weeks, no worries to the bills or to food, but it was the nights when it seemed there were too many accidents that scared of having to see her sister wander in and out of the Pink Pearl, limping with bruises on her cheeks and arms and legs, fighting back tears. Yang couldn't let that happen to her.  
  
She was almost to the tram station when she heard the footsteps behind her, turning and glancing back to see the same men that had been hiding around the smuggler's crate following her, hands stuffed deep into their slack's pockets and faces covered in shadows. She frowned. "Hey, little miss!" one of them yelled in a thick Brooklyn accident. She stopped, watching as they headed closer, wondering how far she could get if she ran. Her side was still hurting, she didn't really want to have to start anything. They reeked like alcohol and fish the closer they got, and Yang could only assume they were some of Fontaine's men; fishermen turned smugglers helping to bring more money to the dead businessman. Yang stood up straighter, trying to make herself look taller and bigger, although she was already tall considering her age. The men weren't that much taller than her; only a couple of inches at most. She'd have the upperhand anyway; they were drunk, and smugglers or not, she was stronger than them, no doubt. "We saw you hangin' around Junior's bar! What's a cute face like you doin' around over there!"  
  
Yang frowned. "I work there," she said, calmly. They were closer now, eying her from her feet up to her face, lingering at her chest. She wished one of them would throw a punch.   
  
"So you're a Pink Pearl girl?" the other asked, the grin on his face sending shivers down her spine. He was looking at her like she saw the drunks around the Alley look at the girls; like they weren't breathing human beings, but warm sacks of flesh they could stick their dick into. "Wearin' a lot of clothes for that," he said, putting a hand on her arm.  
  
She grabbed his arm and twisted, hearing him yell loudly, the sound echoing off the large walls. His friend moved forward to grab her, and she pulled the one she had a hold off into him, watching them stumble to the floor. They groaned in pain, probably too drunk to get up after that. Yang sent a good couple of kicks to their crouches just to be safe. "I'm not a Pearl girl, and never lay your hands on me again." The only response she got was a few groans, and she felt satisfied with that. Maybe she'd never see their faces around the Alley again. Maybe that was wishful thinking, but she was going to hold onto it. The tram was as on time as it normally was down here, and she got on, riding it all the way back up to Apollo Square's station. There was the gentle hum of the machines as she walked the rest of the way to Artemis Suites, the way devoid of many people, although some hung around. There were too many "Who is Atlas" posters hanging around the walls to make Yang comfortable, but she figured that was the risk to living in the Square. As long as Andrew Ryan didn't decide to come down and make a pass to see all the illegal activities going on down here. Hopefully Yang could save up enough so they could move up to Olympus Heights. Hopefully.  
  
The suite was quiet and empty when she came in. There was a record on the record player, playing a soft song that filled the emptiness of the room, and Yang looked over to the couch, seeing the sleeping form of her sister, dark hair framing her face and eyes closed, soft puffs of breath escaping her slightly open mouth. She had probably, by the looks of it, stayed up to see her sister home, but ended up falling asleep. Yang sighed and smiled gently, grabbing a spare blanket and covering her with it, kissing her forehead. "Good night, Ruby," she said softly, before going to lay down and sleep herself.  
  


* * *

**_Sinclair's Spirits, Market Street_**  
  
Ruby Rose liked to count herself lucky; Artemis Suites wasn't the best place to live in Rapture, but it was warm and relatively safe. She had a roof over her head at night, a bed she could always return to, and food for when her stomach rumbled. She was lucky, no doubt about it, to have things that people in Pauper's Drop could only wish to have, although she knew her and Yang were always one missed bill away from getting kicked to the Drop, where the lowest of Rapture's low went. She had been there, and it didn't seem like a place she'd enjoy all that much; too dirty, too many shifty eyed men and strung out ADAM addicted women, and her and Yang's wallets would be too tempting for those desperate people. No, she'd rather stay in Apollo Square, where Andrew Ryan was always two steps away from condemning the place like he had with Fontaine's Department Store, and Fontaine's Futuristics, than live in Pauper's Drop where the risk to get killed or worse was always on the table when waking up.  
  
That didn't stop her from staring misty-eyed and hopeful every time she took the tram to Market Street, where the socialites and elite shopped and paraded around their money, flashing huge bills and diamond rings like it was nothing. The glitz and the glamour always got her amazed, despite not being too much of a dolled up, dress fiend herself. It was the way these people presented themselves; always calm and collected and walking around like they owned the place (although some of them did, she figured), so unlike the jittery, nervous people she saw in the Square. The ones who lived the high life, up in Olympus Heights, they didn't have the fear of their home being closed off and having to relocate to whatever corner of the city they could find. She was always a tad jealous of them, with their money and jewels and worry-free minds. Sometimes she'd sit up behind the neons, watching the people come and go from the shops, wondering what it'd be like to live amongst them, to be drowning in sparkling necklaces and silk dresses.   
  
Ruby really liked Market Street because of the money.  
  
People paid her no attention, when it really boiled down to it; she played the lost orphan kid well, with the small smudge of dirt on her nose and the cap on her head covering her hair. Sometimes she'd catch a smug scowl being passed her general direction, but to these up people, she was a ghost. A ghost with nimble fingers. They were unguarded, even around her, which made it easy to slip her fingers into a pocket and slide out a bundle of cash being held together with a clip, or fancy necklace from a purse that was hanging out just a tad too much. Ruby knew she wasn't doing the right thing, and thieves weren't treated kindly by Rapture's police force, but Yang always looked so exhausted at the end of the night, always looking so stressed when her paychecks came just a tad less than what they needed. If she knew what Ruby was doing nearly every day, she never commented on it, never chastised her, and Ruby knew she probably had to; there was no easy way to explain the extra five hundred dollars that showed up just in time to pay rent.   
  
Ruby was taking a break today, legs hanging off the edge of the top of a shop, arms around the metal beams holding the neon sign up, watching people come and go. She found most of her usual ways up closed off or taken down; spare ladders, foot holds in the brick, even big crates stacked up, so she had to improvise. She normally didn't sit on top of Sinclair's Spirits, the smell of the wine and liquor wafting in from below too unpleasant for her, but it made for some interesting sight seeing. Every so often, someone would glance up at her, distaste in their eyes and a scowl on their lips, before they wandered into the shop nonetheless. Didn't pose a real threat so far up here, she figured, otherwise she would have seen an officer by now, yelling at her to get down. Her feet dangled a bit more, careful not to kick the neons, before she heard a heavy sigh below her.  
  
"Am I going to have to say it?" came the tired voice of a man, and Ruby looked down at the unruly grey hair below, brown eyes staring up at her without any amusement to them. He wore the standard outfit for a security officer, and Ruby's lips spread into a grin and she shrugged, a flicker of mischief running down her spine. The man sighed, shaking his head. "Ms. Rose..."  
  
"What? It's got a great view," she replied. They were attracting attention now, customers stopping to stare at the scene before them, some in amazement others in frustration. "I can see all of Market Street from up here!"  
  
He continued to be unamused. His arms crossed over his chest as he watched her, and Ruby kicked her feet into the air a bit, a shit-eating grin still plastered on her face. "Do I need to contact your sister, Ms. Rose?" he asked, and Ruby knew that wasn't much of an empty threat as he made it sound; if she didn't get down, she'd find Yang dragging her down by her ear in no time. The grin fell off her face and one spread onto his.  
  
"Okay, okay," she mumbled, untangling herself from the wires and beams and moving to get down, the weight of losing heavy on her chest. Maybe she should have taken her chances with pickpocketing today. Her feet hit the ground, looking up at the man who had busted her with an ashamed look. "I'm here, you got me down, Ozpin," she said with a wave of her arms, trying to play off her broken ego with a little bit of grandeur. It felt like it was working.  
  
Ozpin, the man with the grey hair and brown eyes that seemed to stare right through Ruby sometimes, shook his head a bit. "Does Ms. Xiao Long know that you're up here in Market Street, fooling around with the neons?" he asked, crossing his arms again. "Or that you're slipping jewels and wallets onto your person?" Her ego deflated again. So much for her stealth.   
  
"No, she's working an early shift down in the Alley," she mumbled. Ruby usually didn't slip away up here while Yang was working, but Yang had left early this afternoon, talking about how Junior needed someone reliable there for part of the day shift after throwing out his last bouncer drunk, so Yang could only politely agree and head down there as quickly as she could. As fun as the suite was, all their records and books, Ruby didn't want to stay there all day, so she slipped away silently into the tram after Yang and rode it up to Market Street. Ozpin had really soiled her day of people watching, that was for sure. "And I don't think she'd leave to come get me."  
  
She could see the wheels turning in his head as he debated his options in dealing with her, and Ruby didn't really want to hear the outcome. "I guess I'll have to escort you home myself," he said, and Ruby groaned, long and loud and annoyed, gaining more attention from people passing by. She's probably be known as that orphan kid that got her ass busted in Market Street. She wondered if Stanley Poole was out of ideas and would write an article about her. "Don't groan like a child, Ruby, you're nearly sixteen."  
  
She crossed her arms, all pouts and scowl, knowing she couldn't talk her way out of this one, like she liked to do with all the guards and officers that normally patrolled. Port was definitely the easiest; get him talking about something and he'll barely realize you've slipped away under his nose. Ozpin wasn't as easy to trick, so her only options were to run (which wouldn't work, and she knew it), or give in and head home, calling it a day in her eyes.  
  
Within fifteen minutes, she was on the tram headed back to Artemis Suites, Ozpin next to her as they rode. She felt like a child, being escorted back home with a slap on the wrist; at least Yang wasn't home to hear about what she was doing, although she knew Yang would figure out eventually. Ozpin took her right to her and Yang's shared suite, seeing her in, then leaving once she had closed and locked the door, probably waiting out in the hallway for her to come back out. But her pride was shattered; she didn't want to come back out now, knowing good and well that if she ended up back out in Market Street, she'd just be drug back to Apollo Square. Ruby sighed, putting her favorite record into the player, then flopping down onto the couch, staring up at the ceiling and counting the paint chips she saw.   
  
Ruby wondered what her and Yang's lives would have been like had they been born to American's parents. Well, their parents had been American, but her mother was Japanese, and Yang's was Korean, and the only blood that ran similar through them was the Chinese they got from their father. Ruby honestly couldn't help but wonder and almost wish that they were white, wondered if life here would be different; if they would have owned money and jewels, lived in the sparkly Olympus Heights and never had to step foot in Siren Alley or Apollo Square. Would they have even ended up in Rapture in the first place? How different would their lives be? Ruby felt her eyes close, a heavy sigh leaving her lips as she ran over possibilities, the endless ideas in her head, before there was a click of the lock unlocking and she bolted up, seeing her sister pause mid step at the movement, before her shoulders relaxed. "Hey, Rub," she said with a smile, closing the door behind her and setting the grocery bags she held in her arms down. She bounded off the couch and came over to help her sister, a large grin on her face.   
  
"You're home early," she said, digging through the bags. No candy, but she could see the package of cookies at the bottom, and her heart soared. "And you got cookies!"  
  
Yang took the package from her hands as quickly as she had them. "Yeah, don't eat them all this time!" she said, her voice edging on strict, but still light and playful, like it was with Ruby usually. "I never got any last time I bought some. You ate them all before I got a chance!"  
  
"You bought chocolate chip, can you blame me?" Ruby mused, smiling sweetly at Yang, but her sister didn't falter, holding onto the cookies as Ruby moved to tuck the rest of the groceries away. "Are you planning on cooking this week? You bought a lot of stuff."  
  
The look Yang gave her threw Ruby off for a moment, wondering briefly if she was forgetting something; surely not, right? Her grey eyes swept over her older sister's face, before it lit up like a Christmas tree, a wide smile coming onto her lips. "My birthday!"  
  
Yang's face brightened with her own and Ruby laughed, smiling wide. "Yeah, you doof!" she said, ruffling Ruby's hair and setting the cookies in front of her. "Consider this an early birthday present, little sister."  
  
Ruby laughed and smiled, picking the cookies up and opening them, taking a cookie out and eating it happily. "Wait, this is the early present?" he asked, looking at her.  
  
All she got in return was a shrug, and Ruby spent the rest of the night hounding her about it.  
  


* * *

**_Fleet Hall, Fort Frolic_**  
  
The stage lights were bright, almost blinding, even from backstage behind the curtains, and Weiss Schnee could feel the chill that ran up her spine every night at the sound of chatter coming from the audience. She smoothed her shaking hands down the front of her shimmering white dress, eyes trained forward at the stage, where some entertainer was finishing up their act, although not gaining much attention from the crowd. Weiss felt her lips tug at the corners; tonight would be easy, then. It wasn't like it was ever hard for her in the first place. Fleet Hall (and, by extension, Sander Cohen, she assumed) loved her, and it was never difficult for her to come swaying onto the stage after some horrible banana juggling clown and woo the audience with her voice. Her manager, who was a large, bulky man who she only knew by "White Knight", had told her the moment he laid eyes on her that she would be a star. Rapture was enamored and mystified when it came to starlets and honest performers, and not only had Weiss been born into a significant amount of money under her crib every night, but she had been born into talent that she wasn't scared of honing to be better.  
  
Her icy blue eyes watched as the fool on the stage walked out, the lights dimming and fading to black, and there was a harsh whisper in her ear telling her to "go!". Weiss straightened her back, not realizing her relaxing had made her slouch, before stepping onto the stage and heading to the mic in the middle, her heels clicking against the floor, hands wrapping themselves around the mic as the lights came back on. She couldn't see the crowd past the blinding white in front of her, so she stayed still, closing her eyes and counting her breaths and the beats between them, before the jazzy tune came to her ears and she opened her lips, starting to sing along to the beats, lyrics floating around in her head, trying to keep pace with the band and her own voice.  
  
It was over almost as soon as it began, the music ending and the crowd applauding, and only then did she reopen her eyes, letting a big smile pass onto her face, before she took hold of the edge of her dress, curtsying and bowing her head slightly, before taking her leave from the stage, her heels drown out by the whistles and hoots from the audience. She smoothed her dress again once she was safely behind the curtains, watching a few stray sequins fall off, and she made a small face, before she felt a hand on her back, ushering her backstage with a low murmur on how well she had done, which was a broken record to her ears, but boosted her ego nonetheless.  
  
Her dressing room had a glistening silver star on it, her name written in neat cursive on the plate with a heart under it. Inside it was mostly white with red, the faintest glimpses of gold visible every so often. She wasn't much for gold, if she was honest, despite how valuable and lovely the other singers and performers she had met claimed; she preferred silver. Weiss left a heavy, exhausted sigh slip past her lips as she heard the door click shut behind her and she moved, locking it and looking over into her mirror. Her silvery white blonde hair had been tied back into an elegant bun, diamond clips shimmering under the light, her slender frame perfectly covered by a sequined silver dress, sleeveless with a slit up one leg, before slowly fading into an icy blue that matched her eyes. She sighed, marveling at her appearance, before she caught sight of the scar that ran from her brow to her cheek over her left eye, a scowl coming to her red painted lips, before she turned from the mirror, reaching back and unzipping her dress, letting it fall to her feet in a glistening puddle, grabbing the fluffy white robe hanging on the back of her chair, slipping it on, unlocking the door, and heading to her vanity in the corner, sighing heavily.   
  
The powder puff she had been using was sitting on the top, a thin dusting of pale powder standing out against the dark wood. She sighed, picking it up and putting it back into the container it belonged in, before there was a knock at the door. Weiss turned as it opened, a red haired women with kind green eyes stepping in, her head peaking around the corner. "May I enter?" she asked, and Weiss sighed, smiling gently.  
  
"Of course, of course, Pyrrha," she said, turning back to her vanity and watching Pyrrha step into the room through the mirror, a bundle of white roses in her arms. Weiss's eyes went wide. "Are those for me?" she asked, turning back around to face her properly. Pyrrha smiled and nodded, tucking them into the empty vase on the low sitting table in the middle of the room. "Are they from you?"  
  
"I figured it was only appropriate," Pyrrha said, rearranging the flowers to make them look the best. There was a gentle flush on her cheeks and nose, and Weiss felt a smile slip onto her lips. "Sorry if it's out of line for me, Ms. Schnee. I know I'm only your bodyguard, but I saw them and immediately thought of you."  
  
She couldn't hold back the soft snort that came from her nose, before she covered her mouth, cheeks turning pink. "Pyrrha, it's alright," she said, hoping she could ignore that unladylike noise she made, and praying Pyrrha didn't comment on it. "No one else is around. You don't have to be so profession when it's just us."  
  
Pyrrha visibly relaxed, her shoulders falling slightly; Weiss hadn't realized she was so tense before. She was dressed in formal wear, a beautiful maroon gown with her hair down in perfect curls that fell over her shoulders. She was probably in the audience tonight, watching her performance from the front rather than the obscured view she normally got from backstage. Weiss felt her heart soar a little at the thought of Pyrrha sitting in the audience to watch her, to see her face as body change and sway as she sang. It was hard for her to deny that she wasn't thinking of her as she sang. "I apologize," she said, ever the formal, but her voice was more relaxed. She stepped out of her heels, sitting down on the perfectly clean white couch, sighing softly. "I'm not sure how you're able to wear those heels you do on stage for all that time. My feet are aching."  
  
Weiss chuckled behind her hand, turning back to the mirror, taking the clips out of her hair. "Practice, Pyrrha," she said, smiling to her reflection, eyes darting to look at her companion on the couch every so often. "Besides, its easier to just stand there than it is to walk around in them," she said, before pulling her hair down finally, sighing as it fell down her back and over her shoulders, running her fingers through the silky strands.   
  
"I'd rather not wear them at all, if it's all the same to you," came the reply and a soft chuckle. "Are you feeling alright, after your performance?"  
  
Weiss hummed as she picked up her brush, starting to brush the tangles and knots from her hair. "I'm feeling fine. It's just been a long day," she said, sighing heavily. "I feel like I was doing vocal warm ups all day. You know how White Knight is. Got to have the perfect performance." Her voice was laced with ice at the end and she felt her mood drop with her heart.  
  
She heard the shift of the couch and the gentle padding of Pyrrha's feet against the carpet, before there was her reflection behind her, her tanned, slender arms wrapping around her shoulders and looking at her eyes through the mirror. Weiss sighed, leaning back against her, eyes slipping closed slightly. She felt lips press against her temple, warm and gentle, another sigh slipping out. "You shouldn't trouble yourself so much with what he thinks about your performances," she said, and Weiss felt her shoulders fall a little at her words. "You're always perfect, Weiss, you know that. I know that."  
  
Weiss sighed and nodded, before they jumped and parted as there was a knock. Despite her robe, Weiss felt cold where Pyrrha's arms had been, but weren't anymore, turning to the door as Pyrrha stood to the side, hands behind her back. "Come in," she called, and the door opened, revealing the large figure of her manager in the doorway, with a couple of showgirls behind him, primping and picking at their nails. "Oh, Sir, how may I help you?"  
  
"Wonderful performance tonight, Weiss!" the man said, far too loudly for the small room they occupied, and Weiss only barely managed to not cover her ears. "Perfect and dazzling, as usual!"  
  
A small, tight smile came onto her face. "Thank you, sir," she said, the politeness forced through her teeth as she watched him enter her room, shooing the flamboyant showgirls to wait out in the hall, hearing their small quips to each other, before the door closed in their face. Her manager had yet to address Pyrrha, who stood silently to the side, as polite and formal as she had trained herself to be. He crossed the room and sat down on the couch, kicking Pyrrha's heels to the side. She felt a flash of anger in her gut.  
  
"You're turning into a real star, Schnee," he said, taking a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his breast pocket on his suit, slipping one out and lighting it up, the smoke wafting into the air. Weiss wrinkled her nose. "I'm sure we could move you from weekly performances to bi-weekly performances in no time." Weiss's tight lipped smile fell and she held her tongue. "The posters we have up in Market Street are already bringing in extra revenue. You're a real cash cow, Weiss!" The posters he spoke of weren't even hers; they showcased the weekly Friday night show, and her face shared the poster with four other people. If they came for her, it was hard to tell; most people sat through the whole show, and she was always the last act. She had been stuck in this gig for nearly two years now, and she was getting a little tired of listening to her manager's ramblings after every show. "Next week you really need to step your game up, though. We're getting in a new number before you, and I've heard through the grapevine that she's damn good."  
  
Weiss sucked air through her teeth and nodded silently. "Of course, sir. I'll try my best."  
  
He pulled a flask from an inside pocket, taking a deep drink, before he addressed her. "No, Schnee, you will not try, you will do your best, do you understand me?"  
  
She stiffened a bit in her seat, a sting traveling up and down her spine, before she nodded, solemnly. "I'll do my best, sir, of course."  
  
"Good," he said, before he rose from the couch, and Weiss stood to mirror him, heading to the door to see him out. He smelled heavily of cigarettes and alcohol, and the stench burned her nose. His hand wandered down her lower back as he passed. "I'll speak to you later. Stay good, doll." He was gone without another word, the feeling of his hand lingering as a tingle on her skin, and she held her arms close to herself as her door closed, feeling sick to her stomach, before she turned to Pyrrha wordlessly.   
  
"Let's go home."  
  
Home was an apartment they shared in Olympus Heights. Although Weiss spent a lot of time in her dressing room in Fleet Hall, and Pyrrha a lot at her side, it was always a breath of fresh air when they returned home, to sleep in their king size silken bed. It was just as extravagant as Weiss's dressing room; silver shining in the light, pretty price tag items and clothes laying around. Pyrrha had kicked off her ruby red heels at the door, padding barefoot across the plush carpet to put a record on, and Weiss let another exhausted sigh slip past her lips, setting her purse down on the entry way table they had set up, before slipping her feet out of her shoes.  
  
A smooth upbeat song came from the record player, and Weiss heard Pyrrha humming along quietly, gathering her hair back and tying it up in her usual ponytail, disappearing into the back of the apartment. Weiss never had a taste for the pop music Pyrrha seemed to enjoy; she was a fan of the jazzy serenades, but Pyrrha's music had grown on her since they moved in together. Weiss hummed along with the record, singing along with Ella Fitzgerald as she went to the kitchen, hips swaying a bit with the music. She heard the shower begin running from the bathroom, and she grabbed some left over food from the fridge, turning the oven on to heat it up.   
  
_"Into each some life some rain must fall, but too much, too much if falling in mine."_  
  
Weiss let another sigh slip from her lips, before putting her food into the oven, setting it for a few minutes, before turning to head to the bedroom. The record got quiet as she headed from it, going to her closet and taking out her night gown, a strappy short piece of lingerie, before slipping out of her daily clothes and bra, putting on the gown and sighing, adjusting the silky cloth over her flat chest. Her gaze lingered in the mirror, before she turned away from it, grabbing her bed robe and sliding it on, heading back to the kitchen as the oven timer went off. She heard the water in the bathroom shut off, and she sighed, taking a fork out to start eating, leaning against the counter as Pyrrha's head peaked out around the corner, hair wrapped up in a red towel and her fluffy bath robe covering her up. "Oh, I save that for you today," she said, smiling. "I ate the other half the left overs, but I figured you'd want something to eat after work."  
  
She smiled, nodding and taking a bite, although her stomach was still sickly from earlier, but she needed to eat something; she had barely eaten anything all day, between getting her hair and make up done to vocal rehearsals. Pyrrha got worried when Weiss didn't eat much, always worried one day the heat of the spot lights on the stage would get to her on an empty stomach and she'd end up passing out. "Thank you," she said happily, taking another bite and humming quietly. "I haven't eaten much outside of the candies and dainty little sandwiches they had in the dressing room," she explained, pushing the lasagna around in the container.  
  
Pyrrha's lips turned into a smile. "Well, you eat and come to bed when you're done," she said, crossing over to Weiss, kissing her cheek sweetly, and Weiss felt the troubles from the day melt away. "I need to get dressed for bed, though."  
  
Weiss nodded, a genuinely happy smile on her face as Pyrrha turned to head into the bedroom, and her icy eyes lingered on Pyrrha's back as she walked, before moving them away and pushing the pasta around, eating a few more bites, before tossing it out. She stopped into the bathroom, rinsing her mouth out, before brushing her teeth, taking a moment to brush her hair back out, before she left and headed into the bedroom. Pyrrha was laying in bed when she came in, wearing a large, white button up dress shirt, the top few buttons left unbuttoned, showing off the smooth skin on her chest, a book in her hands, reading silently. Her green eyes raised up, looking at Weiss as she entered, and a smile crossed onto her lips. Weiss shrugged off her robe, resting it on the back of a chair sitting in the corner, before moving to the bed, getting in and under the covers. She supposed this is where a couple would feel those jittery nerves in their stomachs, where there hearts would race as they skin touched, but Weiss didn't care about that, didn't have a taste for it. She saw Pyrrha moving to place her book down on the bedside table as Weiss got under the covers completely, a yawn leaving her mouth. "Sleep, Weiss," Pyrrha told her quietly as she mimicked her actions, moving to settle into the bed and under the covers.   
  
Weiss felt her lids go heavy, and she slipped them closed. "I love you, Pyrrha." She felt the gentle press of lips against her forehead..  
  
"I love you, too, Weiss."  
  


* * *

_**Fishbowl Diner, Pauper's Drop**_  
  
The sounds of loud banging woke her in the morning, the familiar sound of metal against metal, but it startled her awake nonetheless. She could hear the loud shouts of people from inside the diner already, the bustle of people passing in and out of the town square. Her back was stiff and ached, the concrete below her cold and dirty, and she pushed herself up off the ground, a quiet groan leaving her lips as a shadow fell over her. She looked up, seeing the thick, full face of the diner owner, her small eyes narrowed and lips pulled into a scowl. "Get out ya street rat," she said, and like one would do with an actual rodent, waved a broom, hitting her in the aching side, and she scrambled to her foot. "Get! Get! Don't let me catch ya sleepin' here again, ya freeloader!"  
  
She moved away from the diner, rubbing her ribs where she had gotten smacked, a deep set glare on her face as she rubbed her eyes. She still felt heavy and exhausted, but there wasn't anywhere else she felt safe enough to call it a bed for a few hours to nap; she had gotten run out from every other place she had tried. A heavy sigh left her lips, moving to find a leaking pipe to get cleaned up. The people of Pauper's Drop sent glances and looks her way, but they were short lived, only quick glances to judge who was walking among them, to decide if it was one of them or not. She knew she looked the part; dirty, tattered clothes, tangled hair, deep set, dark circles around her eyes. She knew she felt the part, if nothing else. But most others in the Drop looked the same as her; Sinclair was the only person she had ever seen wandering around down here with the jingle of coins and cash in his pockets and a clean tailored suit on his back. She hadn't seen him in a while though, and she knew he was like every other rich person in this godforsaken city; too good for the people of the drop.  
  
There was a leaking pipe tucked away in a corner of the square, and she sighed heavily, moving to cup her hands under the water, before splashing it onto her face, rinsing away the grime and dirt, before wetting her hair as best as she could, running her fingers through the tangles and knots, clenching her teeth and biting back a cry when she pulled too hard. She sat there, wetting her hair and untangling it, for what felt like an hour, before she finally thought herself presentable enough, looking up at her reflection into the glass. Her golden brown eyes were dull, her curly hair a mess, dark skin showing the lighter patches of sandy dirt the smugglers often tracked in. She swallowed, casting her eyes away from her image, catching sight of someone behind her. She turned quickly, looking at the blonde haired young man standing before her; his shirt was open and unbuttoned, slacks rolled up into makeshift shorts and tattered running shoes on his feet. There was a smudge of dirt on his lightly tanned skin, his hands in his pockets and a wide smile on his face. "Hey, Blake!"  
  
Blake Belladonna narrowed her eyes slightly, before looking away with a heavy sigh. "Hi, Sun," she said, smoothing her hair back a bit. Maybe she'd find a pony tail today and could tie it back. "What are you doing today?"  
  
Sun Wukong, all smiles and sunshine where Blake felt like clouds and lightning, shrugged. "I don't know, yet. There hasn't been anything to smuggle in yet, and I'd go swing by the Mermaid Lounge in Siren Alley if I felt like the bouncer would let me back in," he said nervously.  
  
"That's probably what you get for trying to bail on your bill, Sun," was all Blake could mumble in return, she was washing her arms off in the water, sighing heavily as she did. Sun was pleasant copy enough, but she barely felt like being in someone else's presence, much less talking.   
  
"I heard that Lamb is coming for a visit today."  
  
Sophia Lamb; that was one person Blake didn't feel like punching in their smug face the moment she laid eyes on them. Lamb sympathized with them, coming down to the Drop for therapy meetings and counseling; she looked at them with kindness, offered them food and clothes and even money, if she could spare it, and despite how much Blake hated hand outs, she dealt with them when they were from her. She appreciated the concern in her voice, the actions behind her gifts; she appreciated Sophia Lamb. Blake hummed absently to herself. "I'll have to go stop in."  
  
"She's free as far as I know," Sun said, shrugging and stuffing his hands in his pockets again. "You might as well, right?"  
  
Blake sighed and nodded, standing up from the water and smoothing her clothes out. "Yeah, no harm."  
  
If there was one thing Blake felt when standing next to Lamb was how underdressed she always felt; Lamb didn't even wear nice clothes, not the pretty penny clothes Sinclair did, but in her tattered rags, Blake felt like nothing more than a beggar, while Lamb looked like some sort of richly saint. She always held her sessions in the same place; a vacant room in the Sinclair's Deluxe suites. It was always unlocked when the sign on the front read "In", and sometimes Blake would sit in the hallway outside, watching people come in and go out, always leaving with an armful of something. She rarely popped her head in, sometimes opting to just watch others do what she couldn't bring herself to do. But other times, she did go in for a session, although she kept a lot to herself. As well as she trusted and confided in Sophia Lamb, there was something about her that always felt off.  
  
Now was one of those times; Blake had said something sweet and to the point, and Lamb had launched into some long analogy about life and how Andrew Ryan's politics were killing his citizens, and Blake listened, always hanging onto her every word. There was a fire in her eyes, one she saw in a lot of people's eyes; one that was willing to threaten everything they knew in Rapture if only to tip the balance to be even. Anyone who went to Pauper's Drop could see this was not the shining utopia in the ocean like Andrew Ryan liked to brag; Blake could remember when she lived in Texas on the surface, how horribly her mother and father were treated by the population for the color of their skin, could recall the way her scalp burned as kids at recess would tug and pull on it, the bruises her father wore proudly on his face. She had always figured there it was hell, when they were wealthy and well off, but she would take a thousand years of that over the few years she had lived in the Drop since her parent's passed away and Rapture had seized their funds for the charges they faced for their anti-Ryan propaganda. Blake would live that life over and over again, if only she could be out of this place.  
  
She had barely realized she was spacing out until there was a gentle clearing of a throat, and she looked up quickly, startled slightly. "Ms. Belladonna? You look deep in thought. Tell me what is troubling you."  
  
Blake's head to mouth filter seemed to be flipped off. "I was thinking of my life on the surface," she said, then blushed a dark red, embarrassment soaking into her gut. She rarely spoke of the surface; Andrew Ryan didn't like that talk. "S-Sorry, I mean-"  
  
A wave of Lamb's hand silenced her. "What about your life on the surface, Ms. Belladonna?"  
  
"My parents," she said softly, her eyes falling. "The comfortable bed I had as a child, the house I lived in, the clothes I wore." Her throat closed up, and she sighed. "The racism my family and I faced everyday. I don't think I'll never not think about that."  
  
Lamb hummed quietly. "You faced quite a bit of racism on the surface world, didn't you?" she asked quietly. Blake nodded once, stiffly. "Tell me, do you feel the same is being done down here?"  
  
Blake wasn't sure what to say for a moment; did she? She knew a majority of the people who worked and lived in the Drop weren't white, and Suchlong was the only people on the council she could think of that wasn't white. An acid curled in her gut. "I think so," she admitted, without hesitating, but she didn't feel the embarrassment she had before. "I think I liked it better in Texas than I have here in the past few years."  
  
Lamb was silent, the kind of silence that rested heavy on her shoulders and made her stomach churn sickly, as she scratched down something on her paper and clipboard; was she going to tell Andrew Ryan what she had said? It was a moment of quiet, Blake fidgeting nervously in her seat, before she spoke. "I have a recommendation, Ms. Belladonna," she said softly, ripping off the bottom half of her paper and handing it to Blake. "I fear I don't have much expertise in what is troubling you. I would like you to come back next week, but meet me at that address instead. I have a friend I think you could benefit from speaking to along side me."  
  
Blake was silent for a moment, before nodding, opening the paper, looking at the address. Sinclair's Deluxe? "Ah, Ms. Lamb? This is an address in the Drop?" she asked, looking up at her in confusion. She knew she cared for the people here, but Blake didn't peg her for having actual friends here.   
  
"I'm aware. My friend I spoke of lives here," she said, her voice stern enough to give Blake the impression that she did not make a mistake, but kind enough to give her forgiveness. "If you wish, you can go see her before I return."  
  
She nodded, silence overtaking her, before she stood. "Thank you," she said to Lamb, smiling and bowing her head slightly. "Truly, Ms. Lamb, thank you. For all you do for the people of the Drop."  
  
"You're quiet welcome, Blake," she said, a smile on her face. "I'll always consider these people part of my family. Always."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apparetly the only place i can write anymore is starbucks, and apparently i write faster there too. cool.

**_Research Laborites, Arcadia_**  
  
Jaune Arc sincerely didn't like wandering around Arcadia; too many trees, too many turns in the paths, too many ways for him to get completely lost. He was never really a nature fan when he was on the surface, either, usually opting to stay indoors to play with his toys than join his sisters outside to run around in the forest behind their house. Bugs scared him, heights frightened him, and more than anything, he didn't like getting hurt, or seeing blood, especially not his own. That's all Langford's underwater forest was; a giant maze of bark and leaves, with screaming kids running through the grass, falling and scraping their knees as their half-drunk parents watch on like it's normal. Jaune would rather avoid Arcadia if he could.  
  
Unfortunately, he found himself down amongst the foliage more often than not, but that's what he got for having friends who researched and worked here, and for being a delivery boy for Rapture's postage services, he supposed. He held the package close to his chest and sighed, glancing around as he stood outside of the research laboratories, his nerves making his hair bristle on his arms as he raised a fist to knock, only to watch the door slide open and large green eyes to look up at him, before there was a loud call of "Jaune!" and he was being wrapped into a tight hug. Jaune held the package up above them, making a pained noise as his ribs were squeezed, before the person in front of him let go, smiling wide up at him. "You're here a lot sooner than we thought!" they cheered, before looking at the package he was still holding, jumping up and taking it from him. "And you brought what we needed! Thank you thank you! Come in, come in! Ren will definitely want to see you!"  
  
Jaune hesitated. "Uh, well, maybe I should head back Nora, I-I-"  
  
Nora Valkyrie, short with a chubby frame, turned to look at him, a scowl on her face, and Jaune's spine felt chills. As short as she was, she was more intimidating than most others than Jaune knew, and before she could even speak, Jaune nodded, feeling physically exhausted as she grabbed his hand and drug him into the labs. There wasn't much going on that he could see; a few people bustling around here and there, a few more with beakers and other equipment in their hands. They all turned to give him weird looks as he passed, and he couldn't blame them; everyone here had lab coats on, looked intelligent and proper, while he was in the most casual he could go for work with a paper boy's hat on a mess of blond hair. He stuck out badly here.   
  
Nora pulled him to a room that overlooked a section of Arcadia, people moving to and from down below in the grass and trees, and over to a dark haired man standing at the table in the middle. He looked up as they approached, a smile on his face. "Nora," he said, simply, then turned to Jaune, his eyes going a bit wide. "Oh, Jaune, I didn't know you'd be coming in."  
  
"Neither did I," Jaune said quietly, earning an elbow in the ribs from Nora. "Um, so, what was in that package?"  
  
"A few more beakers, a few chemicals," Nora said, smiling wide. "Dr. Langford is working on something that she thinks will change Arcadia."  
  
Jaune hummed and made a face. "Change?"  
  
Ren nodded. "She wants to find a way to reanimate dead plant matter," he said. "To keep Arcadia going, and keep oxygen pumping through Rapture."  
  
"Whoa," Jaune whispered, eyes going wide. "That's something big."  
  
There was the opening of a door, and they turned. A blonde woman with her nose upturned slightly and glasses perched on her face looked over the group, eyes sticking to Jaune. "Ms. Valkyrie, Mr. Lie Ren," she greeted shortly, nodding her head toward Jaune. "Who is your visitor?"  
  
Jaune felt another chill go down his spine, before Nora was talking, happily, like her employer didn't bleed anger at the moment. "This is Jaune Arc Dr. Langford," she said cheerfully, a smile on her face. "He's a delivery boy, he brought us the package of-"  
  
"Don't speak about our projects in front of outsiders," Julie Langford said snappily, a cold ice in her voice. Nora shrunk back a tad, and Ren looked at her. "Mr. Arc, it's been a pleasure to make your acquaintance, but I need to ask you to leave now," she said, nodding politely to him. "Excuse the short notice, but my assistants and I must get back to work now."  
  
"O-Oh, no problem Ms- I-I mean, Dr. Langford. I'll take my leave," he said, keeping the polite formalness in his voice. "Uh, Nora, Ren, I'll talk to you two later," he said with a smile, before turning, heading out of the lab and back out into the rest of Arcadia. It took him nearly half and hour to find his way back out, but when he was finally safe on the tram back to Olympus Heights, he let himself relax, sighing heavily and slipping his hat off his head, running his fingers through his hair. He briefly wondered why Langford was so secret when it came to the project she was working on, but then decided against it; that wasn't his place to wonder, and curiosity did, in fact, kill the cat, and as hard as Rapture pushed him sometimes, he didn't want his curiosity to kill him. People went missing or ended up dead for going against the status quo; Frank Fontaine was one of the first people that came to mind when that was concerned. Jaune didn't want to end up like Fontaine, for good reason, so he kept his mouth shut and and went with the flow, despite how often he wanted to do the opposite. He had seen how awful this city treated its people, but there wasn't much he could do as a paperboy still living under his parent's roof. Not much he wanted to do, if he was honest.   
  
His apartment was empty when he came in, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Sometimes it was hard sharing an apartment with half of his sisters, with how formal and chatty they tended to be, the make up on the counters and shoes in the hallways. He considered himself lucky though; at least he didn't have to share a room with any of them. Sometimes he missed living in France, among the smell of freshly baked bread and the sound of singers in the streets. He was only ten when they moved to Rapture, but he was homesick; Rapture was cramped and dark and sometimes smelled like fish, and Jaune could only take so much of the primping he saw the richer people do on a daily basis before he felt like he was going to explode. At least he was home alone for a while.  
  
He sighed, going into his room and kicking off his shoes, before flopping onto his bed, face in his pillow and a heavy sigh escaping his lips. His body was aching from all the wandering he did in Arcadia. If he could find the motivation, he'd get up and go take a shower to wash the dirt and pollen all over him, but he couldn't bring himself to get out of bed now that he was so comfortably in it.  
  
The sound of a door closing echoed in the apartment and he groaned loudly into his pillow. "Jaune?" came the sweet sing song of his older sister, and he sighed, rolling over in bed, facing his bedroom door as it cracked open. "Oh, you are home," she said, that soft French accent that never faded coming out a bit more now that she was around family; his sisters kept them while his never stuck in the first place. A smile worked it's way onto her painted lips, and she stepped in, heels clicking against the wooden flooring. "Are you feeling alright?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm alright, Vi," he said quietly, sitting up a bit and smiling. "Just tired."  
  
Violette Arc, her blonde hair tied back in a bun on top of her head and a smile on her round face, nodded. "Just making sure," she said. "Papa said we need to look our best tonight. We're meeting with the Schnee family at the Kashmir for dinner."  
  
That was the last thing he needed, but it'd be hard to talk himself out of dinner, especially if it was important like this; it'd look bad on his parents if their only son didn't show up to meet the Schnees, although he could only guess what kind of conversations his sisters were going to have with the two girls. He sighed, nodding. "Okay, I'll be presentable by dinner time."  
  
"You might want to do that quick," she said with a smile, before coming over to him, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "It won't be so bad, though, don't worry. And Weiss Schnee is supposed to be a real pretty girl. Maybe you two will get along, mon frere" she said with a wink, her little nickname for him hanging in the air for a moment, before leaving his room. Jaune sighed, before falling back in bed with a groan.  
  
This was going to be a fucking fun night.  
  


* * *

_**Kashmir Resturant, Welcome Pavilion**_  
  
Weiss saw no point in this dinner; her father was a powerful business man in Rapture, and the Arcs were nothing but artists and collectors (and their only son was a paperboy, how dreadful), but her father found it fit to suggest a dinner to get introductions in, with her rising fame in Fleet Hall, and their name being plastered over most of Sander Cohen's prized art pieces. It was pointless, absolutely pointless. She could rise up all on her own, and if they wanted to kick start her career, they should have set up a dinner with Sander Cohen. But Weiss couldn't argue much; she needed to keep up appearances, needed to keep the Schnee family name spotless and sparkling, like always. Winter had left quite a path to follow, in terms of power and influence, and she was not going to let herself become the black swan of the family.  
  
The Kashmir was a nice resturant, so she counted herself lucky, in that regard. It was only for the fanciest and richest of Rapture's inhabitants, and no one lower. The reserved a few party tables, had them set up in the center next to the golden statue of Atlas holding the weight of the world on his shoulders, and Weiss couldn't help but to stare as the waited for their meals to arrive, before her father cleared his throat. She sat up a bit straighter in her chair, painting a tight smile on her face. "I was just telling Mr. Arc here," her father explained, an ice in her eyes that let her know that he knew that she was spacing out and not listening to the conversations around her. She wished Pyrrha could have been here. "That you're gaining quite a reputation in Fleet Hall for your singing shows every week."  
  
"Oh, yes, I have a show every Friday," she said, politely, that smile still on her face. "I'm the last act of a four act set."  
  
"You don't have your own act?" Mr. Arc asked her, and she felt her shoulders fall slightly, before she shook her head.  
  
"No, sir, not yet," she lied, her heart aching. She never would, at this rate. "But my manager assures me I will soon. It's just a matter of patience."  
  
Mr. Arc sat back and hummed, and her father jumped in. "Despite this, my daughter's performances are quite regal," he said, nodding. Weiss could feel the Arc's son's eyes on her from down the table- what was his name? Yellow or something? She had trouble remembering any of their names; they were all named after colors in French, and her French wasn't as great as she liked to believe. "She performs Friday nights at Fleet Hall, if you wish to attend one."  
  
"I've seen the posters," Mr. Arc said, smiling over at her. Her heart soared slightly. "Your image stands out quite a bit against the other act's images, I'd have to say. I look forward to attending your next performance, Ms. Schnee."  
  
She smiled, sincerely, for the first time that night, and nodded politely. "Thank you, Mr. Arc. I look forward to giving you my best."  
  
Their food arrived after that, the waiters passing down plate after plate, and once they were all set in front of the proper person, her father began talking about Winter, and Weiss turned him out, taking small bites of her fish dinner, before there was a folded napkin in front of her, looking up to see one of the Arc girls - Rose? Violette? one of the twins- handing it to her. "From mon frere," she said with a smile. "My brother, Jaune."  
  
Jaune, that's what his name was. She looked down the table, seeing him sitting there with a red face, eyes trained on his food as one of his sisters giggled quietly behind her hand. Weiss made a slight face, opening the napkin, looking at the hastily scribbled writing on the inside. It was a number, and she only assumed it was his phone number, with a small "call me? please?" written next to it. She tried not to show the distaste she felt, looking back up to his sister and smiling, thanking her quietly and folding it under her plate. She wasn't going to take it with her, but she wanted to look like it while she knew they were watching. Hopefully this boy wouldn't try to hunt her down like some of them did.  
  
After dinner was done, they all got up, saying their courtesies and heading their separate ways. Winter left with their father and mother, like she normally did, and as Weiss was heading to the other tram to get back home to Pyrrha, there were rushed footsteps behind her, and she turned, frowning a little when she saw Jaune. God, she didn't need this. "W-Wait, Ms. Schnee!" he called to her, and she sighed, stopping. She couldn't run in these heels. "Wait, I, uh-"  
  
"Look, Jaune, is it?" she asked, her voice icy and not at all the polite speech he heard at the table. His mouth dropped a bit. "I appreciate the gesture, but I am not looking for suitors, nor will I accept them if I had them," she said, raising her chin a bit higher. "Have a goodnight, Jaune," she told him, before turning to get onto the train.  
  
"W-W-" his voice was lost as she stepped onto the tram and the doors closed behind her.  
  


* * *

_**The Fighting McDonagh's Tavern, Neptune's Bounty**_  
  
The wharf wasn't a place Blake frequented much; she never left the Drop, if she was honest, never saw a reason to. Everything outside of the drop was outside of her price range, and although she wasn't above stealing when she absolutely had to, places outside of the Drop had more rules, and thievery would be punished. She didn't want to end up in a jail cell in Persephone, even if she could only figure it'd be nicer than the Drop was. At least she'd be fed, she assumed, which was more than she had now. But when she did leave the drop, she always went to Neptune's Bounty, and straight to the tavern; it was the only place in Rapture she could get that rare drink she wanted once in a while. Even if it was built to cater to the fishermen that came and go from the wharf, she didn't seem out of place among them, not like she would in any place in Olympus Heights, that was for sure.   
  
Bill was an aging English man that served her drinks and didn't ask for money in return; it was always the alcohol left over from the day before, the bottles he didn't serve to anyone outside of her. She didn't mind much, since alcohol, after all, and it kept her from having to steal to pay for the bottle. The buzz from the whiskey she had been served in a crystal clear glass on ice was just starting to set in as she glanced around. There was a small table's worth of fishermen sitting in the back talking quietly, and a blonde woman dressed in men's clothes sitting at the bar a few seats down from her, nursing her own bottle of alcohol. There was some scratchy record playing some high-pitched, squeaky woman's voice, and Blake had half a mind to go over there and turn it off, lest the sound grate her nerves to dust. She wasn't a fan of music, much, but whatever was playing now was something she was not a fan of, for sure.  
  
There were a few staggering footsteps that came into the tavern, and Blake turned her head slightly, looking back at the men who had wandered in. They looked drunk already, red faced and grinning, and she sighed, turning back to her drink, hoping she'd be left alone. Her wish wasn't fulfilled though as the men who had come in came up to her on both sides, blocking her in on her seat. They smelled of scotch and beer, and the salty, fishy smell that the whole wharf smelled like. She leaned closer to the bar, sighing heavily. "You're a pretty face," one of them said. "Don't look like you're from around here. Are you a Pink Pearl girl wandering up too far?"  
  
The blonde woman sitting down the bar looked over at that.  
  
"No, I'm not," Blake said, not raising her eyes from her glass. Bill was minding his own business down the way, and she cursed him quietly. "I'm just in here for a drink."  
  
"Not many ladies become fishermen," the other said, leaning closer to her. He had a thick Southern accent. Her skin crawled. "So you must be here to keep us company, eh?"  
  
Blake frowned. "I'm just in here for a drink," she said again. "Go away."  
  
"Go away, huh?" one of them said, before his hand was around her arm, holding tight. She winced away, only for the other man's hands move to her shoulders, holding her in place. "I don't think we will, miss."  
  
There was a hot flash of fear in her gut. "Let me go," she said, struggling, but their grip only tightened. She heard the scrap of a barstool against the wooden floors.   
  
"Hey," came a woman's voice, and Blake looked over to see the blonde who had been sitting at the bar standing nearby. She was gorgeous, was all Blake could think, but there was a dangerous glint in her eyes, whether it was from the threats they had been hounding Blake with, or from the alcohol, but she still looked as threatening. "How about you guys let her go."  
  
The men holding her laughed. "I'm not thinking so miss," one of them said. "Keep your trap shut and maybe we won't take you with us, too."  
  
The blonde raised her eyebrows, sighing and shaking her head. "And here I was trying to avoid a fight," she said, before she moved forward, grabbing one of the men by his collar and pulling him away quickly. His hold left Blake's shoulders, but the hold the other man had on her kept her in place. She swayed on her stool a bit as the blonde threw him to the floor, before sending a quick, and sharp, kick to his ribs to keep him down. She looked up to the other man, who still had a grip on Blake's arm. She winced again. "I'll say it again," she said, her eyes like fire. "Let her go."  
  
The man tightened his grip on Blake, before scoffing and throwing her toward the blonde, who caught her with gentle arms. "Damn bitch," he muttered, before moving to pick his friend up off the ground, leaving. Bill was absent from the back of the bar as the blonde helped Blake rebalance herself on her feet.   
  
"Are you alright?" she asked her, and Blake could feel her heart soar a bit at such a nice gesture; not many people would have gone out of their way to do this, she knew, and she appreciated it.   
  
"Yeah, I'm alright," Blake said quietly, nodding. "Thank you."  
  
The blonde smiled. "You're welcome," she said, before she turned to pay for their drinks, leaving without another word, and Blake behind, confused and grateful.   
  


* * *

_**Adonis Luxury Resort, Olympus Heights**_  
  
Pyrrha was used to the glitz and over the top treatment of Rapture's wealthiest citizens, getting accustomed to it through Weiss in the time she's spent body guarding her, but sometimes it still took her a while to get personally used to it when they took trips around to shops and various other establishments that catered to Weiss's money and power more than anything else. Pyrrha had never been around such nice things in her life, but she was a tad ashamed that she had gotten used to it over the years.  
  
Weiss liked to frequent Adonis Luxury Resort, usually taking a weekly trip on Sunday after her nightly performance on Friday. The staff knew them both by name; Miss Schnee and Miss Nikos, the white haired starlet and her body guard, although when Pyrrha came along on these trips with Weiss, it was less to protect her from the fans and the press, and more to relax alongside her. They got their own private room, one tucked back away from some of the others, a combination sauna and mud bath. The privacy was nice, even if Pyrrha always felt out of her element sitting in a towel in the room.  
  
"I still can't believe my father actually thinks that it's a good idea for Jaune and I to date!" she said, sitting in the mud bath, looking over at Pyrrha as she sat on the side in a chair. "He's a paper boy, Pyrrha! All my father wants is for my career to get out this stand still it's in, but that's never going to happen. White Knight won't move me out of Friday's line up, especially not now with that new girl coming to work for him," she said, her voice icy. "I can't believe he'd do that!"  
  
"I heard she's not under his management," Pyrrha said calmly, a stark difference against Weiss's cold fury. "She's under the management of some man named Torchwick."  
  
Weiss hummed. "I've never heard of him," she said, shrugging and sighing, sinking into the mud a bit more, the dark sludge covering her shoulders. "Either way. She's probably going to take the nightly performance I was supposed to have," she said quietly, frowning and looking over at Pyrrha. "I'm sick of this. Friday night set with my act the last behind that damn clown!" She fumed silently for a moment, glaring at the mud after looking away from Pyrrha.   
  
Pyrrha sighed quietly, watching Weiss sit in silence. "I think you'll get out of that set soon, Weiss," she said with a smile, watching Weiss relax slightly. She was always able to do that, whether she meant to or not. "I'm sure you will."  
  
"I hope so," Weiss said quietly, sighing heavily. "I know my father will pull this little pipe dream out from under my feet if it takes any longer. I just wish I knew why I can't get my own act. Is it my singing? Is it me? Is it my-" Weiss's voice caught in her throat and trailed off, and the words hung heavy in the air. Her scar.  
  
"I know it's not," Pyrrha said, sighing and checking the time on the clock. She stood, heading over to the bath to help Weiss drain the mud and fill it with water so she could rinse off. A bead of sweat rolled down the back of her neck. "It's most certainly not, Weiss."  
  
Weiss sighed and nodded, a sad look on her face. She covered her chest with her arms as the mud drained away, her eyes staring at her lap. Pyrrha ran the water, turning to sit back down, facing away from Weiss as she rinsed off. "I just... Sometimes I think that's why White Knight won't move me up..." she said quietly. "I've got the voice and the body and the look but... There's just that one thing that's wrong."  
  
Pyrrha knew Weiss was a powerhouse of confidence, knew she held her head up high and not much got to her, but her scar was always something she never liked, and no matter how much she tried, she could never put enough make up on her face to cover it up. She knew it wasn't much for her to tell her that it wasn't so bad, that a lot of people had scars, but Weiss was smart, too smart for those little quips to try to make her feel better. "I know," she said softly. "Maybe you could visit Dr. Seinman?"  
  
Weiss scoffed, and Pyrrha heard the sound of water running again. "That mad man isn't getting near my face with a scalpel," Weiss said, her voice full of conviction. "I don't care what happens to my career, if that's what it comes down to."  
  
"I suppose that's fair," Pyrrha said with a soft laugh. "I've heard the stories about him... He's definitely not as respectable as everyone claims him to be." He was the main reason Weiss stayed as far from the Medical Pavilion as she could; she didn't want to run into that man if she could avoid it. "But I'm sure it'll never come to that, Weiss, don't worry."  
  
She heard her sigh, then heard the uncapping of a bottle of bubble bath, heard the bath run again. She waited a moment, before turning around in her seat. "I sure hope so," Weiss said quietly, before she huffed. "Enough of this heavy talk. We should go run up to Market Street after this. I want to go shopping."  
  
Pyrrha smiled, chuckling. Shopping seemed to be the only Weiss was ever able to relax outside of singing on the stage. "Of course, I'd love to," she said with a hum, leaning over and pressing a quick kiss to Weiss' lips, earning a soft laugh from her.  
  
They stayed in there, talking and relaxing for another hour, before they decided to leave, paying up front and heading to the tram. Weiss let her hair back down once they left, the silky locks leaving the soft sent of vanilla behind her, something Pyrrha enjoyed as they wandered in and out of shops; Weiss was quite indecisive. They made a stop in Rapture Records, buying a few more jazzy ensembles for their record player, and even a couple that Pyrrha enjoyed, before they headed over to Weiss's favorite clothing shop; Adel's Boutique. It was a smaller shop, situated back and to the side of Sinclair's Spirits, a shop Weiss constantly passed by with a wrinkle in her nose, but once they were inside the clothing shop, her mood lifted, a smile on her face and her demeanor shifting. "Hello and we-" the greeting fell flat on a cashier's lips as their eyes went wide. "O-Oh my, Ms. Schnee! Welcome to Adel's Boutique! How may we help you?"  
  
Weiss smiled, passing her bags to Pyrrha, who took them without a word, but a small smile on her face. "I'm just here to order some new clothes," she said with that a uppity tone to her voice, the one she used when talking to people she considered under her. It bothered Pyrrha a tad, but she knew it was more or less to save face in case anything got back around to her father. "I have a show on Friday, and I'm thinking of changing my look up a tad."  
  
"Of course! What are you thinking?"  
  
"Red," she said, and Pyrrha caught a glimpse of the sparkle in her eyes, the pink on her cheeks that wasn't just her make up. "Red and gold, please."  
  
The cashier nodded, smiling wide at her. "Of course, Ms. Schnee, come with me. We have an employee this was that can size you and fit you for a new dress."  
  
Weiss and Pyrrha followed the girl, silently, before they came to the sizing room Weiss was normally lead to; it was white and silver, and a snowflake sat on the door. The owner was quite accommodating, in the long run. Weiss slipped out of the heels she wore, as the cashier left the room, before taking off the day clothes she had worn out that morning. "Red and gold are hardly your clothes," Pyrrha said with a small smile, standing in the corner. Weiss met her eyes and smiled in return, chuckling quietly, before setting her clothes down on the chair, wearing only her lacy bra and underwear, not ashamed or nervous to be so bare in front of Pyrrha.   
  
"Mmm, not mine, no," she said knowingly, coming over to press a quick kiss to her lips, winking. "I was going to silently dedicate this Friday's performance to you, of course."  
  
Pyrrha rolled her eyes with a playful smile on her face, before Weiss headed back over to the bench in the middle of the room, sitting with her legs crossed and waiting. It was another moment before a short, petite girl came in, half of her hair a dark brown while they other looked like a fading red turned pink, a few red dresses tucked into her arms. She nodded silently, moving over to Weiss, who stood, a confused expression on her face. The cashier returned. "Excuse me, Ms. Schnee?" she said with a polite smile, adverting her eyes from Weiss's mostly naked figure while the shorter girl began measuring various parts of Weiss for fitting. "This is Neo, our newest employee. She's, ah, mute, so please excuse her silence."  
  
"It's no problem as long as she gets the job done," Weiss said, and Pyrrha looked at the girl. Odd choice of hair. "Thank you." The cashier left again as the girl, Neo, continued to measure Weiss, before handing her the dresses she was holding. Weiss took them, looking over them and humming, her face deep in thought, before turning to Pyrrha, holding one up to herself. "Do you think this one is good?"  
  
It looked almost exactly like the red dress Pyrrha owned and wore to her performance Friday night; Pyrrha felt a flutter in her chest. "I think it looks fantastic, Ms. Schnee," Pyrrha said with a knowing smile, nodding silently.   
  
Weiss looked pleased, before slipping it on, letting Neo zip it up in the back, before raising her arms to let her begin pinning parts to get it fitted. "I'm sure this will attract quite a bit of buzz next week," she said to Pyrrha, smiling. "Red and gold are such contrasting colors from what I normally choose."  
  
Pyrrha nodded, smiling at Weiss. "I'm sure it will, Ms. Schnee," she said, although it was hard to keep her speech formal, especial with the way Weiss's face was beaming. "Red suits you quite well."  
  
Weiss looked flustered all at once, before she cursed, pulling back from Neo. "Ow!" she said loudly, frowning. "That was my skin!" Neo looked up at her with a frown, mouthing 'sorry', before she continued with the pinning. Weiss took a moment, trying to cool her head, before she looked back over to Pyrrha. "Mr. Arc is going to be at my performance next week."  
  
That was a surprise; Weiss was all but displeased with having to meet the Arcs, but she seemed quite proud of herself to say those words. Pyrrha smiled. "Is he?"  
  
"He is," she said happily, smiling wide and Pyrrha could see her fluff up her ego. "He looks forward to it, even," she told her, before yelping again, pulling back and scowling. "Dammit that was my skin again!" she yelled at Neo, who pulled back with a dark look in her eyes. "Can you do your job correctly or will I have to-"  
  
The door opened, cutting Weiss's tangent short, and the three of them looked over, seeing a brunette enter with a smile on her face. "I thought I heard you in here," she said, a hint of smug humor in her voice. Weiss's face lit up. "Is there a problem, Weiss?"  
  
Weiss waved away Neo, getting down carefully and heading to the brunette, planting a friendly kiss on her cheek. "Coco!" she cheered happily. "Oh, I thought I'd actually have a visit where I didn't see you!" she said, laughing quietly. "And there isn't a problem, none at all. I was just being jabbed slightly with pins, that's all."  
  
She always downgraded her issues when she talked to Coco; saving face, once again. Pyrrha saw Neo fuming silently off to the side. "Well, that's good. I was worried my newest seamstress was causing problems," Coco said, smiling and looking over to Neo. "She was a last minute hire, since Diane left."  
  
"Oh, not Diane," Weiss said, getting back up so Neo could continue. Pyrrha felt herself get a bit lost in the conversation. "I always loved her work. I still wear that pink dress she made for me with pride, even if pink isn't my favorite color to wear."  
  
"Yes, poor Diane. Had a family emergency," Coco said, watching as Neo continued to pin at the dress. "Had to quit last minute, so sad. I had to find someone to replace her, and I got recommended this quiet thing."  
  
Weiss hummed, holding her arms up for Neo, a gentle frown on her face. "How sad," she said softly. "Well, this one is doing nice work, so I'm not complaining," she said, a smile coming to her face almost immediately. "I figured it was time to change up my normal purchases, and get a bit of color."  
  
"The red is a nice look on you," Coco agreed with a smile, nodding. "It suits you quite well, it's a nice choice."  
  
Pyrrha saw Weiss's feathers fluff in her head, smiling wide and humming as Neo finished, before carefully helping her out of her dress. "Thank you, I'm eager to wear it."  
  
Coco smiled. "It'll be ready by Friday night, don't worry," she assured her, watching her cross to get dressed again, humming some pop song from one of Pyrrha's records to herself. "I assure you it'll be just as fine quality as it always is."  
  
"I'm not worried that it won't be," Weiss said with a smile on her face, putting her coat back, smoothing her clothes out. "It always is, and this time will be no different. It never is."  
  
Coco nodded, giving Weiss a hug as she went to leave. "Smart girl. I hope to see you again soon, Weiss. It's so lovely to see your shining face in here."  
  
Weiss smiled, her cheeks turning a bit pink from embarrassment. "Thank you so much, Coco," she said, taking her bags from Pyrrha again. "I'll pop back in soon."  
  
They left after that, Weiss's smiling, happy face turning into a scowl as she scoffed. "I won't tell Coco I bled on that dress after that new girl stabbed with her needles," she muttered under her breath, and Pyrrha could only find herself chuckling quietly as she followed her home.   
  


* * *

_**Mermaid Lounge, Siren Alley**_  
  
It was another slow night, although Sunday nights typically were, but Yang was thankful. She sat idly at the bar of the lounge, Velvet to her left nursing a pop Junior had brought her while Yang sipped at her own beer. Junior bustled behind the bar, serving drinks to the men sitting at it, occasionally stopping by to refill Velvet's glass. Yang was still having a hard time getting that girl she saw the night before out of her head, how pretty she was, how she looked at her with shock and awe at how nice Yang had been to her. Yang only regretted not getting her name before she left, but she was drunk, and didn't want to wake up the next morning with a name and number scratched on a napkin, only to not remember who it had been. But she did remember, god did she remember, and now she was paying for it.   
  
"You look lost in thought," came the soft Australian voice of the girl beside her. Velvet sipped at her drink, looking at Yang and smiling faintly, her make up a bit smudged under her eyes, but other than that, it was fine; she hadn't have a rough night like she did a few nights back, and the bruise on her cheek was slowly fading away. "What's troubling you?"  
  
Yang smiled back, downing the rest of her beer and sighing. "Just... troubles," she said, shrugging and running a hand through her hair, pulling apart any tangles while she did. "Nothing, like, too bad, before you start worrying."  
  
The brunette hummed quietly, taking another sip, the remainder of the brown soda sitting at the bottom of her glass. Junior stopped by, topping it off again. "Well, what sort of troubles, Yang?" she asked her. "I might not be able to do much, but talking always helps me."  
  
She enjoyed Velvet's simple understanding of things sometimes. "Well, I saved this girl up in McDonagh's Tavern last night," she said with a shrug. "Some drunken fishermen were harassing her so I stepped in."  
  
Velvet made a face at her. "That's hardly a reason to get so out of it," she said, taking another sip, eying Junior as he moved around. It might have been a slow night for them, but it was hardly a slow night for Junior. "Did something else happen?"  
  
Yang sighed. "Well, no," she said. "Nothing else did. I was drunk, and so I saved her, made sure she was okay, then headed home. I never once asked for her name."  
  
'Oh," Velvet said quietly, less from the implications, more because of the mistake Yang had it made; it wasn't like Yang was silent about the fact she very much liked women and men, and Velvet definitely wasn't kept in the dark. It wasn't like her reputation was at stake. Maybe if she lived up in Olympus Heights and was somebody, it would. "Well, what did she look like?"  
  
"She wasn't dressed nice," Yang started. "But she wasn't exactly dressed badly either. She wasn't a fisherman, that was for sure. She had darker skin and dark hair..." Her heart did a small flutter as she thought about the woman. "And these... beautiful golden brown eyes that looked almost yellow, Velvet, I swear..."  
  
Velvet sat up a bit straighter at that. "Golden brown?" she asked, before her eyes went wide. "Oh! Yang I know who you're talking about!"  
  
Yang stared at the brunette. "You- What? How?"  
  
"Her name is Blake Belladonna. She lives in the Drop. Used to own a suite down the hall from me, and sometimes we'd go attend Sophia Lamb's sessions together," Velvet said. "She's a pretty quiet girl, and I know she got kicked out of the Fishbowl Diner one too many times so now they won't let her back in. That's probably why she was up in the Bounty; I heard Bill gives away old alcohol"  
  
Yang stared at her with her jaw dropped. "I... Oh my god, Velv," she said quietly. That girl- Blake- didn't look like she was from Olympus Heights, but Yang would have never had pegged her for the Drop. She was sure she'd be out of her league, though; maybe she still was. But her heart soared; at least she knew where to find her. "Oh my god, Velvet, thank you."  
  
"It was no problem, Yang," Velvet said with a gentle smile, looking over Yang's shoulder at someone entering the bar, pushing her glass away from herself and getting down from the stool. "That's Yatsuhashi. I'll see you tomorrow night." She left with a gentle kiss to her cheek, and Yang sat at the bar, her mind racing.  
  
Blake Belladonna.  
  


* * *

_**Poseidon Plaza, Fort Frolic**_  
  
Mondays were always busy days around Rapture; Sundays were the days the entire city seemed to take a breather, and Monday is when everyone roared back to life. After getting kicked out of Market Street, Ruby only had one other shopping district she felt comfortable enough to wander around alone in; Fort Frolic. It was less a shopping district and more an arts district, but it was all the same to her; rich people with their wallets unguarded and easy game for her. There posters of the weekly show all over, some surrounded in pretty flashing neons, and Ruby stared a bit dumbstruck at one of the Friday set, at the white clothed starlet, Weiss Schnee. Ruby sighed quietly, smiling to herself. She could only wish she was that pretty, that successful. Weiss was the only person any of the girls on their suite floor could talk about; she was like an angel, all white and shimmering, and she sang like one, too, from what they said. Maybe Yang could take her to one of her shows for her birthday.  
  
Ruby turned to head around to find someone's wallet to pick, running right into someone standing behind her, stumbling back and almost falling, before a hand grabbed her arm to steady her. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" the person said, their voice raised in pitch as they helped Ruby get steady on her feet again. Ruby fixed her hat and looked up to who she had run into; a red haired girl with bright green eyes, dressed plainly with a bow in her hair. She didn't look like she belonged in Fort Frolic, if Ruby was any judge. "Are you hurt?"  
  
"O-Oh, no!" Ruby said quickly, shaking her head and smiling at the girl. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to run into you like that."  
  
The girl relaxed a bit, a smile on her face. "It's okay. I was just admiring the power of Weiss," she said, motioning behind Ruby. "She's so pretty. I'd love to see her show."  
  
Ruby's smile fell a bit. "I would, too," she said quietly, nodding.   
  
The girl hummed quietly, before turning to Ruby again, offering her her hand. "I'm Penny," she said cheerfully, a smile wide on her lips.   
  
Ruby eyed Penny for a moment, before taking her hand and shaking it. "Ruby. Uh, Rose. Ruby Rose."  
  
"You have a pretty name!" Penny said happily, and Ruby smiled. She seemed nice enough. "Where do you live, Ruby? Do you live up in Athena's Glory? Or Mercury Suites?"  
  
Her heart fell. She was a well off citizen. She almost thought she had finally made a friend in this town that wasn't Yang, or Jaune, as little as she saw him. "Oh, I, uh, don't live in either of those," she said quietly.  
  
Penny's eyes filled with confusion. Ruby started to feel sick. "Well, where do you live then?" she asked.  
  
"I, uh-"  
  
"Penny!"  
  
There was a loud shout across the way, and Ruby stood up straighter; she recognized that voice as Ironwood, the partroling officer around here. If he caught her, Yang would hear about this, no doubt. She cursed loudly. "I need to go," she told Penny. "I'll see you around, friend." She turned, heading off and jumping when there was a hand on her arm, stopping her. She turned quickly and looking back, seeing Penny look at her with wide eyes.  
  
"Are we friends, Ruby?" Penny asked, a smile on her face.  
  
Ruby cursed her friendly nature, not sure how to answer, before the panic of being caught came back, and she nodded. "We're friends, of course, Penny."  
  
Penny let go of her arm and beamed to herself. "Sensational," she said happily, and Ruby turned, heading off and hiding behind a building, peeking around to watch Penny. Ironwood walked over to her, a frown on his face, talking to her in a rushed manner, and Ruby saw Penny deflate, caught the words "yes father" on her lips, and her gut dropped.  
  
Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Follow me on tumblr!](http://seanspooles.co.vu)

**Author's Note:**

> [Follow me on tumblr!](http://seanspooles.co.vu)


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